


Love Language

by AvengersCompound (emilyevanston)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Love, Romance, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, bad at relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 03:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16653415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyevanston/pseuds/AvengersCompound
Summary: If two people speak a different love language is it possible to learn the other’s.





	Love Language

Love is a language that seems to come in an infinite number of dialects.  It’s almost like no two people actually speak it exactly the same.  Even if you find your person (or at least the person you’ve assigned as your person at the time).  Even if that assigned person and you find each other through the billions of planets that inhabit the cosmos.  Even if that assigned person has been blessed with the Allspeak, there is often a slight misalignment.

It was best to think of these things as a Venn diagram.  You had one circle of all the ways you expressed love.  Let’s say that was holding hands, eating breakfast at the table together, bringing home a favorite candy from the store whenever you go and pet names.  Well you might hope that you get pet names, breakfast and holding hands back and they have a few you don’t have like sticking their cold hands between your legs in bed and butt slaps in the hall.

Brunnhilde didn’t seem to speak any kind of love language that you knew at all.  Cuddling with her on the couch was like cuddling with a rock.  A reluctant one that made grumbling sounds when you tried to get comfortable against it.  If you attempted to hold hands her fingers never seemed to close around yours.  She would forgo eating together at a table anytime if the day.  If you did perchance eat at the same time, she seemed to never particularly feel like the same thing you did.  She could handle pet names but not the typical ‘honeys’ or ‘sweethearts’.  It was more like ‘dummy’ and ‘huge dork’.

Still, it was strange, even though you didn’t speak the same language, you were drawn to each other like magnets.  As frustrated as you would both get, her at your constant lying on top of her and kissing her and insisting she eat properly, you at the dragging you out every day, the teasing and general lack of any romance, you kept orbiting each other.  Like two satellites caught in each other’s gravitational pull.

There was a knock on your door and Brunnhilde let herself in.  “Hey, dork, you home?”

“Yeah, honey.  I’m in here.”  You called back from your bedroom where you were putting away your laundry.

She came in holding a little cardboard box and she wrinkled her nose at you.

“What’s that?”  You asked bumping your drawer closed with your hip and coming over to her.

“Cake.”  She said simply.

“You got yourself cake?”  You asked.

“No, I got you cake.  It’s your favorite.”

You dropped your jaw and you walked your fingers up her arm.  “Brunnhilde.  Warrior and leader of the Valkyroir did you buy me cake because you saw it and thought I’d like it?”

“No.  I didn’t.”  She said.

“Honey…”  You said nuzzling at her cheek.

She wrinkled her nose again but tilted her head to give you more room.  “Just take the cake would you.”

You took it off her and looked inside the box.  It was a cupcake and your favorite.  Decorated with little marzipan mushrooms, chocolate leaves, and silver balls.  “Brunnhilde!”  You squeaked.  “This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me.”

“Shhh…”  She said taking the box off you again and putting it on the dresser.  “Let’s not speak about the cake anymore.”

“Can I eat the cake?”  You asked looking at the box wistfully as she nudged you back towards the bed.

“Mmm… we’ll see.”  She said.

It occurred to you at that moment, as she guided you back towards your bed, stripping your clothes from each of you as she went.  Maybe two people might not start out speaking the same language when it came to love.  It might be possible to learn to understand it though.  Maybe even when you weren’t fluent you could make the gestures to have them felt heard.

Like now how Brunnhilde desperately needed your touch yet cuddling often made her feel awkward, so she was going to the thing she was good at.  You tangled your hands in her hair and pulled her into a hard kiss.

She lifted you up and place you on the bed, grinding down against you.  Her pussy rubbing deliciously against yours.  It created little sparks each time pressure was put on your clit.  They slowly crept out through the rest of you making your hair follicles stand on end.  You kissed hungrily.  There was need to it, something you had always been aware of but never took time to appreciate it.  She needed you.  It wasn’t something she liked to say.  Or maybe it wasn’t something she could say because saying it made her vulnerable which was something she never allowed herself to be.  She needed you though.  It wasn’t just the sex at all.  The sex was a conduit for her to speak to you.

As your arousal grew and your cunt began to drip she brought her fingers to your clit and began to rub it, still grinding against you.  She was able to read your body like a book.  She knew where to touch and when and exactly the right amount of pressure to keep you suspended on the edge of climax forever, or to throw you over again and again until you were begging her to stop.

Her fingers slipped inside of you as you brought your own to her pussy.  She curled them, seeking out your g-spot as her thumb worked your clit.  When she pressed down on it and dragged the pads of her fingers over the top you made a sound that was so base level animalistic it startled you a little.  You tried to focus, pushing your fingers inside her, seeking out the spongy surface of her g-spot.   When you touched it, you felt her core muscles tighten around your digits and her body shudder.

Neither of you could stop kissing.  Mouths, necks, breasts.  Even as you drew out moans from each other.  As you panted and trembled under the other’s touched, your mouths were magnetically drawn to the other’s skin.

Your orgasm hit first.  You arched up violently under her as it tore through you.  “Oh fuck, goddess!”  You cried.

She smirked and brought her lips to yours, kissing you deeply as she stroked you through it.  As you got control of your body again, you pushed her on her back and crawled down, sucking on her clit as you worked your fingers inside her.

There was something different from the way a god tasted compared to a mortal.  She was sweeter, headier.  It was almost like you could get drunk from her.  Her hands tangled in your hair as you drank her up, your tongue working over her clit as your stroked your fingers firmly over her g-spot.

She came suddenly.  He hips bucking up under you as you drank her fluids down.

You crawled back up and octopused your body around hers.  She responded by curling an arm around your waist and patting your hair.

“How about we share the cake and we can go out?”  You said.  Hoping that that gesture might be one that spoke to her.

She smiled and kissed the top of your head. “No, let’s just stay in.  Cuddle and whatever.”

You kissed her deeply.  Maybe it wasn’t just about learning a love language but relearning one you were too afraid to speak anymore.


End file.
